Dragonsfang
by Langerhast
Summary: A tale of Martin the Warrior that was never told... Rated R for later chapters.
1. Prologue

This is my first fic in a new, and beloved, genre. It is short, but, well, 'tis only the beginning. A tribute to good Mr. Jacques, may he live long and prosper.  
  
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Kain Nightstrider was a peculiar and frightening beast to the few who had ever seen him. He was a wildcat, tall and gaunt, and he always seemed to have his shoulders hunched, as if in defiance to a constant prodding chill.  
  
Where his left eye had been, there sat a dark, empty socket, with a jagged scar cutting across his face from his jaw to his forehead. His single eye gleamed with a piercing emerald hue, seeming to peer into the very soul of any beast it passed over.  
  
His dark blue cloak swirled around him in the wind as he strode through the darkening forest. He kept his eye locked forward, seeming to blend with the trees and their shadows. Suddenly, he came to a halt, gazing up through the high foliage at the object of his travels.  
  
In the failing light could be seen the tall, red sandstone spire, piercing the evening sky and standing straight and tall like a beacon. The iron weathervane at its peak spun idly in the breeze, glinting in the day's final light.  
  
Kain smiled. At last, he had reached Redwall. 


	2. Chapter 1: A Stranger in the Darkness

Dragonsfang  
  
By Langerhast  
  
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Chapter One  
  
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Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, sat slumped in a large armchair by the roaring fire. The light from the crackling flames played on the sandstone walls, reminding him of days past.  
  
Ever since he had heard the tale of his father's end, he had found it hard to keep his thoughts away from much else. He retold the end of the tale over and over again in his mind on these autumn nights. Many of the Redwallers were beginning to worry about him, spending his time alone so often.  
  
He was interrupted from his thoughts as the wide oaken door to his study swung open and a young mouse in a habit stumbled in.  
  
"Mister Martin!" He cried, panting. "There's a stranger at the gates! Says he wants to speak to you!"  
  
"Thank you, Rodric," Martin said, pushing himself up out of his chair. He didn't feel as young as he had, but his bones weren't creaking yet. "Let's go see what he wants, shall we?"  
  
The two walked through the long, darkened corridors that he knew so well, dusted with age. Before long, their swift feet had carried them across the grounds and into the gatehouse.  
  
Martin frowned when he saw that no beast stood in the dusty room. "Rodric, why didn't you let him in out of the cold?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Martin, but he looked... well, untrustworthy."  
  
The mouse warrior's brow furrowed as he frowned deeper. There hadn't been any vermin causing trouble in Mossflower for many seasons. He prayed that they hadn't decided to rise up again.  
  
He made his way over to the vast, thick doors and unbolted them, grunting as he eased one of them open slightly, providing a small crack.  
  
He bent to peer out into the darkness, seeing nothing. Suddenly, a clawed hand grasped the exposed edge of the door and pulled it open, a gust of cold air rushing in. Martin yelled, and jumped backwards. Rodric made an odd sort of squeaking noise, and ducked behind the older mouse, peering over his shoulder cautiously.  
  
A dark shape stepped into the threshold, draped in a long cloak that swirled around it in the wind. It strode across the stone floor to stand before Martin and Rodric, looming over them and staring down intently with one gleaming emerald eye.  
  
"You are Martin, yes?" A cold, deep voice growled, piercing like a knife blade.  
  
"Yes," the mouse warrior said confidently. "But why do you wish to speak with me? Who are you, and what is your business here at Redwall?"  
  
The figure allowed himself a deep chuckle. Stepping forward into the dim light, he grinned. "I am called Kain. Kain Nightstrider. As for my business here, you shall find the answer very soon."  
  
Rodric gasped at Kain's sinister features. "A-a wildcat!" He stammered, looking up in awe. "With one eye! And black fur!"  
  
The traveler grinned at the young monk's reaction. The mouse had obviously never seen, or had ever thought he would see, someone such as the wildcat.  
  
"Please, sit down," Martin said, smiling slightly. "No one is who appears at our gates is spared our famous hospitality. Sit, and we shall talk."  
  
Kain chose a wide armchair, designed for badgers. As he sat, he swirled his cloak, causing a strange swishing sound. He stared intensely at Martin for a moment with his piercing eye before speaking. "Now, for your other question, warrior. As to why I am here now, it is a long tale, but I will shorten it. Time is against me.  
  
"My family was once respected in the northlands. We held a great secret; the greatest secret ever kept by a wildcat clan, or any other clan for that matter.  
  
"We were the keepers of a talisman. Though quite plain in appearance, it was a vessel of overwhelming power. You see, everybeast chose to believe that my clan was only a family of royalty, but the truth is that we were masters of the Dark Arts."  
  
Both mice gasped at this. "Surely you are joking, Master Kain?" Martin inquired, sweat beading on his brow. "The... the Dark Arts are merely a tale to frighten dibbuns..."  
  
Kain leaned forward, stooping slightly, until he was face-to-face with the mouse warrior. "Oh, no, Martin... the Dark Arts are as real as you and I... and considerably more dangerous." Leaning back, the wildcat returned to his tale, paying no heed to the look of utter disbelief on the two mice's faces.  
  
"Even though great respect was held for us, we still, of course, had enemies. Unfortunately, everybeast does. There were many who envied us for our power and position, and one winter night, they decided to take action.  
  
"I was the first to wake that following morning, with the sun's first light, and so I was the first to know what crime had been committed. In the night the talisman had been stolen, by someone of great stealth, it seems. They must have possessed great skill indeed, or they would not have left our dwelling alive.  
  
"The alarming thing is that it was well- hidden and guarded. There seemed to have been no way for it to slip from our grasp. When the fact remained that it had, however, we were faced with the horrible dilemma of finding out who stole it.  
  
"Our search was frantic. In the wrong hands, the talisman is a weapon in indescribable destructive power. By luck, the answer soon became clear to us; a vermin tribe had stolen it. Not any common vermin tribe, mind you, but one of the most powerful and feared tribes in the northlands: the clan of Vulcar Zonn, the fox.  
  
"I knew there was no way for my clan to repossess it on its own, for Vulcar is a cunning beast, and so I decided to turn to another creature for aid. When the night was young, about a fortnight afterwards, I stole away and journeyed south, for I had heard intriguing rumors of Redwall Abbey and its stouthearted warriors. And so, here I am before you."  
  
"So you ask my aid?" Said Martin, bewildered but firm.  
  
Kain leaned forward to face the two once more. "I do not ask your aid, Martin of Redwall... I beg for it."  
  
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Fortunately this installment is much longer than the last one. A nice length, in my opinion. Please review, and tell me what you think! 


	3. Chapter 2: The Grand Departure

Drangonsfang  
  
  
  
By Langerhast  
  
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Chapter Two  
  
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Sunlight streamed over the high abbey walls, welcoming the beginning of a new day and the procession down below that marveled at its beauty.  
  
Nearly all of the inhabitants of Redwall were up and about, bustling about in the abbey courtyard and making preparations. They had received the news early that morning; it had come as a shock, but not a revelation, to everybeast. Many things such as this had happened before in the history of Mossflower, and the Redwallers were not ones to break tradition.  
  
Otters inspected newly forged weapons, mice prepared the food, and the squirrels and moles set about with other things. All who were not busily engaged for even a moment, however, stared uneasily at the wildcat who stood by the shadowed cloisters.  
  
Not many had seen a wildcat since the days of Kotir's reign, and few even then, who were still alive to tell the tale. They all felt uneasy at the presence of this gaunt predator, even though Martin dismissed him as a guest. This wildcat had been the harbinger of such alarming news, and many Redwallers chose to put the blame on this creature for the strange goings- on.  
  
Kain simply grinned back at each of the woodlanders who stared in his direction. Even the normally curious dibbuns, whom he knew nothing about, shied away from him and his position at the cloisters. Good, he thought. Best that they are afraid. It would not be in their best interest to become tangled up in this matter directly.  
  
He had arrived at the abbey with the best of intentions, and so he felt somewhat guilty at springing the news so quickly. Everything had happened in a blur, and the simple woodlanders had almost no time to react to the news before they were caught up in the rush. Things were being sped along perhaps too fast, but it was necessary. Time was of the essence, and the matter was desperately urgent.  
  
"They will be glad that I had come so soon, eventually," he murmured to himself. "Otherwise, they would be swept up in a cloud darker than any of them could ever imagine. Hurry, woodlanders."  
  
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Martin knelt in the bright shaft of light cast by the stained glass window on the cold stones of Great Hall. He knew that he should be helping with the preparations for the departure, but his mind was too weighted. His poor abbey… the woodlanders were forced to begin working before they even knew what had happened. But it was for their own good.  
  
Suddenly, he was snapped out of his reverie when he heard the large, oaken doors to the Hall swing open, and the soft clatter of wooden sandals reached his ears. Before he even looked up, he felt the presence in the chamber, and he knew whom it was.  
  
" Good day, Father Abbot," He said, softly but clear.  
  
"If it is such a fine day, then what are you doing in here, Martin?" The deep, husky voice chuckled. Martin looked up to find the Father standing at his side, the kindly old mouse smiling warmly down at him.  
  
Martin sighed. "I know that I should be out there, helping with the preparations, but there is so much on my mind."  
  
The Abbot lowered himself down beside the warrior mouse. "You are entering old age, friend… this is what happens when you do."  
  
Martin chuckled dryly. "Yes… but tell me, Father, what do you think of our visitor?"  
  
"Well," the old mouse began, clearing his throat. "He is a wildcat… but why should that change anything? You have told me yourself that Gingivere is a wildcat, and you two were once friends…"  
  
The younger mouse sighed. "I know, Father. And I trust him… but none other than myself do so. It seems that the memories of Kotir are still too fresh in beasts' minds."  
  
The old Father Abbot placed his paws on either side of Martin's head and turned it so that the two mice were staring each other in the face. "Martin, Champion of Redwall," he said, "Why do you tell me these things? They are plain to see. I do not even think that you truly need my counsel. Martin, I think that you are at times wiser than I, after all my years."  
  
Martin simply smiled back into the face of his friend, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, until the horn sounded. Martin shook his head, blinking.  
  
"Well, it seems that our party is ready to set off. I must go, Father." And with that, he stood and walked out of the hall, leaving the old mouse sitting in the pool of sunlight. So much had changed, and yet so much had stayed the same.  
  
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All of the abbey dwellers had gathered silently in the vast courtyard, under the bright midmorning sun. All stood looking towards the gatehouse, eyes on the five chosen beasts who had placed themselves before it.  
  
Martin cast his gaze out over the crowd, smiling in satisfaction, as he fingered the silver and leather hilt of his legendary broadsword. All the beasts of Redwall looked to him, as a protector and idol. Beside him stood Rodrick, nervous with the excitement of the situation, and Kain, who stood tall and silent, grim eyes locked on the gathering with an unreadable expression.  
  
Beside them were placed the strongest, biggest otter and the quickest, most agile squirrel in the entire abbey. They had been chosen through careful consideration, and were quite pleased when they had been chosen for the quest.  
  
Suddenly, Martin spoke.  
  
"My friends and fellow Redwallers," he said in his loud, clear voice. "All of you are here today for a very important purpose. Today is the day that our small army ventures out into the deepest reaches of Mossflower, to defend it once again.  
  
"I know that to all of you this may seem far too sudden, but it was urgent, indeed. Some instances are beyond our earthly control. And do not have hostile feelings toward Kain Nightstrider! May none fail to look past his rough, battle- hardened exterior, simply because of troubles in the past. Any who show prejudice towards him shame the abbey.  
  
"Mr. Nightstrider may seem a harbinger of doom, but he does not preach doom. He has come to warn you all of a coming evil, and to prepare and protect you from it. All should be grateful, for if not for Kain, we would all be unwary and defenseless, especially against the powers that he claims to hunt.  
  
"But even though this may seem a farewell, do not think it as one. The brave beasts of Redwall always return home!"  
  
With the end of that short speech, Martin swept his arm out in a great motion at the crowd, and all of the armored beasts emerged. They were clad in some of the finest steel ever seen in Mossflower, crafted and given as a gift by the Badger Lords of Salamandastron.  
  
Martin then swept his arm over his head, and turned, marching towards the abbey gates. All of the armored beasts immediately fell into line and began marching behind him, out of the opened abbey gates and into the road. Even the clank of armor could not be heard over the massive cheering of the abbey beasts as the bid a salute to the adventurers.  
  
Without a word, the otter, the squirrel, and Rodrick fell in behind the marching column, moving confidently out onto the dirt path. Kain remained for a short moment, taking a last longing look at the magnificent abbey building. With a sigh, he turned and swept out the gates, his dark cloak billowing in the morning wind.  
  
And so the warriors of Redwall left that day, some never to return. The sounds of the vigorous cheering followed them all the way down to the chapel of St. Ninian, packed with morning worshippers. With the wind in his fur, his great sword at his side, and the sounds of a pre-destined triumph, Martin truly felt alive again.  
  
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I'm sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter, but I have been extremely preoccupied with other fics. I know this chapter is short, but rest assured, more will come. 


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